


War is Hell

by VeraBAdler



Series: October 2018 challenges [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: Cas finds Dean on the battlefield, and saves him.Fictober prompt: “Go forward, do not stray.”Promptober prompt: World War





	War is Hell

Dean runs.

The enemy is laying down heavy suppressing fire, and the air is thick with poisonous fumes. He lost his gas mask somewhere, so he tugs his shirt up over his nose and mouth and he runs, straining to see through the smoke and the gas to find a place where he can take cover.

It's impossible. He stumbles first in one direction, then another, but there's no way to tell where he's going. It becomes increasingly clear that there's no chance that he'll be able to get to any kind of safety. If a bullet doesn't find him, he could die just as easily by tripping over the uneven ground and bashing his brains out on a rock.

He's not going to lie, not to himself at least. He didn't enlist with the slightest expectation that he would live to see the end of this war. But he didn't think he'd go out like this – blinded, choking, staggering, waiting for his lungs to give out or for his chest to be split open by a rifle shot. He collapses to his knees and waits to join the ranks of the fallen soldiers all around him.

Then there's a strong hand gripping his shoulder, pulling him back to his feet. A voice shouts in his ear, “I know somewhere safe. Hold on and follow me. Go forward. Do not stray.”

The words are hard to discern through the din of the battle, but their meaning is clear: an angel has come to save his life. He would be a fool to refuse salvation, and Mary Winchester raised no fools. Dean follows.

The man leads him across the battlefield, their path twisting to avoid bodies and other obstacles. At one point he halts so abruptly that Dean walks straight into his back before he can stop himself. They stand like that for a moment, and Dean hears a jeep roll past them in the thick smoke ahead. By the sound of the engine, it's not one of theirs. Then they walk again. Dean stays close behind his savior, focusing on the back of his uniform, the back of his dark-haired head.

After the longest ten minutes of his life, he realizes that the sounds of battle are fading, that he can actually see a few meters ahead now. They've made it to a thick patch of trees, and Dean marvels at how normal everything looks here. There's grass, and low bushes, and dappled sunlight through the leaves above. If not for the distant screams and gunfire, he could almost believe that he was back in the woods near his house.

“We can't stop moving yet,” the man growls, knocking Dean out of his momentary reverie. He moves to the man's side and gets his first look at his rescuing angel's face. Wait. He knows this guy.

“ _Cas_?” Dean marvels.

“Hello, Dean.”

“I thought you'd been lost, man. I haven't seen you on base for like a week!”

“I was sent out on advanced recon. Covert work. No one was to have knowledge of this planned push except my team. But now I know exactly where we need to go. Hurry.”

Cas leads him deeper into the forest, moving with absolute confidence. They soon arrive at a small, well camouflaged lean-to. It's clear the shack has been there for many years, as it's overgrown with ivy and small scrub, but when they duck inside Dean sees that it has been well maintained. 

The interior is a room about 3 meters square, with a low ceiling and a dirt floor. He can tell that Cas has been staying here recently – his sleeping bag is unrolled in one corner, and his pack lays open in the center of the floor. To one side there's an oil lantern on a low table, and Cas lights the wick, then pulls the makeshift door closed, blocking out the sounds of the distant battle.

“What is this place?” Dean asks.

“I'm not sure,” his comrade replies. “Hunting cabin, perhaps? Or hermitage? I found it a few days ago, and as you can see I've been using it as my base. The lantern and table were already here, and there are a few other supplies stored over there.” He gestures at a rough-hewn wooden box by the door. “There was a great deal of dust on everything when I arrived; I suspect the owner of this shack has passed on, or perhaps the war drove them away. I've appreciated the shelter, regardless.” He shakes his head, as if refocusing his mind. “At any rate, are you alright, Dean? Were you injured in the fighting?”

“Nah, I'm okay. My lungs hurt from the gas, but it's better now that we're away from the worst of it.”

“Yes, the pain will clear completely in a few hours. We're out of the battle here, and there's no reason to expect it to come any closer. The objective lies to the east, so the troops will be pushing in that direction and further away from these woods.” He peers at Dean then, brilliant blue eyes searching his face. “You look tired. Can I offer you some water? Would you like to rest?” he gestures to his bedroll.

At the offer of rest, Dean realizes how exhausted he feels. The adrenaline of the battle abruptly drains away, and he is overcome with the memory of how certain he was only a few minutes ago that he was about to die. His hands begin to shake, and then his whole body is shuddering in a delayed bout of panic. He can't catch his breath.

Cas appears to understand what he's experiencing. He puts an arm around Dean's shoulder and leads him to the sleeping bag. “Lay down,” he says softly, then starts to turn away.

Dean wraps a hand around his friend's arm. “Can you... Stay here?” he croaks. “Please? Just for a little while? Kinda losin' it right now...”

“Of course,” Cas murmurs, laying down beside him on the bedroll. He pulls and tugs at the fabric until he can wrap it around them both, and then he enfolds Dean tightly in his arms, holding him close from knees to shoulders and stilling the tremors of his body. “It's okay. You're okay,” he whispers, and gradually Dean relaxes against him.

He brings his arms up to hold Cas around the waist and breathes easier. “Thank you,” he sighs.

“Of course,” Cas says again, and Dean hears a smile in his voice. It makes him brave, brave enough to do something he's been longing to do for months. He'd spent the last week mourning his missed opportunity, and he isn't going to waste the second chance he's been given.

He tilts his head up and presses his lips lightly against Cas's. It's chaste and sweet, and afterwards he looks his friend in the eyes and waits for his reaction.

The reaction, when it comes, is profound. Cas moans and pulls him impossibly closer. Their mouths meet again and again, and all sweetness is lost. Their coupling is sudden, seismic, powered with all the terror and tension they've been sublimating through the course of this horrible war. Hands tug at clothing, stroke at skin. They roll and grapple together, locked in passion. There are no words, only sighs and moans as they find their pleasure together.

Afterwards, they lie entwined in their hidden bower. In low voices they talk about home, their families, their dreams for the future. They forget the war that rages nearby, a war they have managed to escape for the night. In the morning, they will decide whether to rejoin their unit or to stay hidden. They could walk east, return to the fighting and find whichever of their fellow soldiers have survived. Or they could strike out to the west and look for a place untouched by battle, somewhere they could build a new life together. It's a decision for tomorrow. Tonight they can sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable post for this fic on tumblr is [here](https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/179426683566/october-25-war-is-hell-verabadler).


End file.
